Signs That This Date Isn’t Going Anywhere
If my older self could tell my younger self what signs to look out for, she’d tell me this . . .
I had never met anyone like him. From our very first conversation, I was hooked. I knew that I was trying to be someone that I was not to keep his attention, but I didn’t care.
I matched with Noam on Tinder and after some great chats, we arranged to go out on a date. The only day that worked for both of us that week was a Saturday a few days before Halloween. It wasn’t the best day for a first date, but I was so keen that I agreed.
I arrived at the bar first, wearing my favourite black skinny jeans and heeled boots, ordered a drink and waited nervously. Twenty-five minutes later, he finally showed up. I was relieved that I hadn’t been stood up, but also a bit annoyed to have been kept waiting for so long. I was too polite to mention it though and merely offered to buy him a drink.
A little while into the conversation he showed me the Halloween costume that he had in his bag. The one which he was going to put on in the toilets at the end of our date as he made his way to a party.
Astounded, I asked him, “What, this date is a party warm-up act for you?” and he nodded and declared himself surprised that I didn’t have any secondary plans for the evening. I was seriously offended by now and ready to leave, but he convinced me that it was a misunderstanding and that I should stay for another drink.
Truth be told, from the little conversation that we’d already had, I was totally intrigued by him. It didn’t help that he was good-looking, tall and broad in a way that I found incredibly sexy. We ended proceedings with a passionate kiss and I was gratified when he sent me a message later that evening to say that the party had been shit and that he wished he’d stayed with me instead. Like a fool, I agreed to a second date.
This one, he turned up to on time and without any other plans — something that should be the standard, but now seemed like a compliment to me. I felt out of my league and in an attempt to be cool, ended up saying goofy stuff that he ridiculed. He must have found it charming, however, because, at the end of the night, he asked for a third date.
I was pretty conflicted. On the one hand, I found many things about him annoying — his drawling accent, his right-wing political views, his arrogance. Yet on the other, I was completely and utterly drawn to him in a way that I had never been to any other man.
Looking back, it was clear that he could read me like a book — my nervousness betrayed how much I liked him. My goofy jokes showed how keen I was to impress him. My forced attempts to appear confident signaled my inner insecurities.
He made hints that he was a bit of a player, but coupled them with comments about how much he liked me, that he thought I was different. I could feel myself sitting up straighter under his praise.
Somehow we got on to a conversation about marriage and I told him that, as a child of divorce, I didn’t really believe in marriage, “the one” or soul mates. He responded by saying that if weren’t for the fact that he didn’t believe in marriage either, he’d propose to me on the spot. I could barely contain my smile. Despite what we’d said mere seconds ago, he’d planted the image in my head of us getting married. My brain ran away with the fantasy of this gorgeous, interesting and intelligent man wanting to marry me.
After the third date, I waited and waited to hear from him. I checked my phone every five seconds. Each second felt like an eternity. I couldn’t bear it any longer and four days later, I gave in and messaged him. His response: “I’m just in a really complicated time right now. I’ll let you know when I’m out the other side.”
I was confused. Date number three had been incredible. I liked him so much. My every waking minute was spent thinking about him. The idea of not seeing him again caused me physical pain. And what was this ambiguous message? It was fobbing me off, yet keeping me hoping at the same time.
I spent three long months waiting for him to “get out of the other side”. When he finally did message me again the story came out. He had been dating another woman at the same time as me and had started a relationship with her. Now that she’d dumped him, he wanted to see me again. This time I didn’t respond. I’d already wasted enough emotional energy on a date that wasn’t going anywhere.
I was young, insecure and smitten. Not a good combination. I saw the evidence that he wasn’t really interested, but ignored it because I was so desperate to see him again.
If my older self could tell my younger self what signs to look out for, she’d tell me that the sheer fact that I felt like I had to impress him and act like someone I wasn’t meant that something wasn’t right. Also, the feeling that the other person has all of the cards in their hands is never a good basis to start a relationship. The fact that he kept me guessing, kept me waiting, kept me on tenterhooks meant he had all the power, and I was willing to accept whatever scraps of attention he offered.
The good news is that my older self is wiser now because I went through the experience and learned from it. Since then I’ve managed to avoid wasting my time on dates that have no future.
